


Afterwards

by Yavannie



Series: Easy Money [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coda, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: Coda to Easy Money. It won't make much sense if you haven't read the first part, but if you're the type to skim for smut, here it is, without too much preamble ;)This had been sitting practically finished on my Drive for a couple of years, so posting for anyone who might be interested.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: Easy Money [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192763
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

They walk back to her dorm hand in hand, fingers interlocked. It feels new and familiar at the same time, and Betty is reluctant to let go even when she needs to get her keys out. To her intense delight, Jughead sneaks his hand back into hers as soon as they’re inside. This time his thumb ends up on top of hers, and it feels not quite right. 

“Wait,” she says, loosening her grip briefly and then weaving her fingers with his once more.

With a silent little squeeze, he lets her know that he likes it better this way too.

“Are you sure she’s not there?” he asks while they wait for the elevator. They can hear its metallic rumbling in the distance, still several floors away.

“I’m sure,” she says, releasing his hand to put hers under his jacket and around his waist.

He pushes up against her, gently but still with enough force that the rough wall catches on the back of her coat. She arches into him as they kiss, chasing the promise of his weight on her. His tongue is still hesitant, careful, almost questioning, like he’s trying very hard to get this right. And yet there’s a sense of urgency to it all; he grabs her hip, not too hard, but like he can’t help himself, and heat blooms in her belly.

The shrill ding of the elevator arriving interrupts them, and the look of disappointment on Jughead’s face as he pulls away makes her heart sing.

Given how all of this started, Betty is fully prepared to live out every single rom com cliché there is with him, starting with making out in the elevator, but regrettably they're joined by another student who manages to sprint towards them and get there just in time.

"Thanks," he says, huffing, even though neither Jughead nor Betty had made the slightest move to hold the doors.

As they rattle their way towards the 7th floor she studies Jughead’s face. She knows it well, from the angle of his jaw to his solemn eyes, knows every birthmark and every curl hidden beneath that beanie. And yet when he glances up at her she feels caught out, and they both look away. 

The unwelcome addition gets off on the 5th floor, but even though Betty is silently humming with expectation, the moment they had before seems to have passed.

“Where is she?” Jughead asks as they stop in front of the door to Betty and Veronica’s shared room. “With Archie?”

Betty rolls her eyes and smiles. “You won’t believe this. She’s staying at the Plaza this week.”

He frowns. “As in...the hotel?”

“Yeah.” 

She opens the door and lets him in. The room is as she left it, fairy lights on in the window and the smell of a scented candle lingering without being overpowering. He hangs his jacket on top of her coat (there’s only two hooks, and Veronica’s is full to the point where Betty is worried it’ll come off the wall), then stuffs his beanie in the pocket and combs his fingers through his hair a couple of times. They sink down on Betty’s bed, backs against the wall.

“Explain,” says Jughead, motioning at the bed on the opposite wall, the covers crisp and unused for days.

“The thing about Veronica,” says Betty, “is that she’s extremely rich. _Extremely_. And the reason she’s even staying in this dorm to begin with is some vague notion of wanting to, I guess live like…” she hesitates, choosing her words carefully.

“Common people?” Jughead finishes the sentence.

“Right,” says Betty with a grin. “And there’s various other reasons, like revolting against her parents, which is why she picked Centreville over literally any other college in the world. But, the _other_ thing about Veronica is that she secretly absolutely cannot _stand_ living like common people. So every now and again, when she’s had it with the communal kitchen and the launderette and the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde-like temperatures of the showers, she escapes to the Plaza.”

Jughead sits in stunned silence for a while.

“I mean, I knew she was rich, but...,” he says. 

“All the better for us though, right?” she says, taking his hand again and turning her head to look at him.

His eyes are dark and serious in the dim light.

“So this isn’t stupid?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Betty says, a chill of discomfort shooting through her belly.

“That’s what you said at the party,” he reminds her. “That you felt like doing something stupid.”

This is one hundred percent correct, Betty realizes. She _did_ say that, because... because she still wasn’t completely sure that she was reading their little dance correctly. Because she wanted to wrap those doubts in a blanket of triviality in case she was mistaken.

“It wasn’t stupid. It _isn’t_ stupid,” she says, squeezing his hand. 

“It’s a bit hard to undo, so that’s certainly a relief,” Jughead says with a lopsided smile. Then he frowns thoughtfully. “So, how exactly do you want to do this? Like, should I ask you out to dinner and a movie? Do the unwritten rules of dating apply here?”

She gives him an unimpressed look. “I feel like we can probably skip past that bit.”

“Great. Next question...do you have a toothbrush I could borrow?”

She does, because her mother bought them in bulk before Betty left Riverdale, and she keeps them in a storage box under the bed along with an embarrassing amount of fabric softener, air freshener, dryer sheets, hand sanitizer and other so-called essentials that Alice Cooper apparently doesn’t trust her daughter to remember to buy herself. 

They brush their teeth together in the cramped bathroom, smiling stupidly at each other in the mirror until Jughead accidentally dribbles toothpaste on his t-shirt.

“This is not even remotely better,” he complains after rinsing it off, leaving a big wet stain.

Betty shoos him out for a minute of alone time, and as she washes her face and changes into her nice pyjama set, his question from earlier lingers. How _do_ they do this? The rules of dating may not apply, but this is still completely new. He’s staying the night, that much is clear, and to be honest she’s so, so ready for whatever it may bring - but is he?

When she steps out of the bathroom again, Jughead is standing by the window, hands in his back pockets, looking out towards the city. The view from the dorm is beautiful at night, the faraway lights of downtown glittering in the distance, but that’s not what’s taking Betty’s breath away right now. 

Obviously, she’s seen him shirtless before. At the beach, at the communal pool, down by the Sweetwater - and she can’t count the number of times she’s glimpsed his back or chest when he’s pulled off a layer… But sometimes she forgets that the gangly high school kid he was only a couple of years ago graduated as a tall, extremely well-proportioned young man.

The dip along his spine looks particularly enticing, and she quietly walks up to him and runs her fingers from his shoulder blade and down that shallow valley. He doesn’t flinch, but she can see the skin on his arm prickling when he turns towards her. She can’t help but let her eyes sweep over his chest. For a brief moment she imagines herself bracing against it, and a little shock of lust courses through her.

“It looks pretty from up here,” says Jughead.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” says Betty, but he’s not looking out the window anymore, and neither is she.

The moment begs for a slow, searching kiss, and she allows them to have exactly _one_ before she gives in to her less virtuous urges, pressing herself against him and deepening the kiss.

It’s bewildering, how good it feels; like this is something she’s been missing without even having had it in the first place, and when he slips his hand under her top to caress the small of her back, she can’t help but moan softly into his mouth. 

Jughead seems to take that as encouragement and slides his hand down further down, fingers skirting the edge of her panties through the fabric of her pyjama shorts before gently giving her an experimental squeeze.

“Bed,” she says, the word half a gasp. She hooks her fingers through the belt loops at his hips and pulls him along, backing away.

“Bed,” he repeats, following her. “Sure. Yes, bed.”

Even though Betty’s dorm is slightly more upscale than Jughead’s, the beds remain narrow, and Betty can stand about half a minute of awkward pushing and shoulder-bumping before taking the rein and simply straddling him. He rests his hands on her thighs, looking at her quizzically. Her own eyes wander, unable to resist those shoulders, that chest, that treasure trail that leaves her buzzing with anticipation.

“Perfect,” she murmurs, half thinking out loud, half wanting to say it.

“What?” he says, but she can tell even in the dark that he’s blushing.

“Just enjoying the view,” she says, before bending down to press her lips against his.

To think they could have been doing this weeks ago, Betty thinks as she buries her fingers in his hair. All the nights she spent wondering, almost daring to hope, they could have been doing this, and other things besides. They’re already getting good at _this_ though, she notes hazily as he trails kisses along her cheek and down her neck. It sends pleasant shivers down her back, and unable to help herself, she grinds against the rough fabric of his jeans.

He gasps, she whimpers, and then sits up a little to do it again, and this time he meets her movement. She can feel him, hard against her thigh, and her hands seem to wander there of their own accord, moving to palm him through his jeans until he squirms and groans underneath her. With her other hand, she fumbles for his fly, but when the top button snaps open, he makes a strangled noise that gives her sudden pause.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her fingers on the second button. They’re both breathing hard, and every breath seems to echo in the sudden silence. 

“You mean…” Jughead says.

“I mean…” What _does_ she mean? She’s not sure. Was she getting carried away? She doesn’t want to crowd him, to be overbearing, or pushy, and she’s getting the feeling she’s making all the moves here. “Are we going too fast?” she asks, but regrets it the moment it slips out, because his eyes flash with sudden uncertainty. 

“Are we?” he says, propping himself up on his elbows.

“No!” she says, making him look even more bewildered. Betty sits back and pushes her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know. I just don’t want us to…”

“Do something stupid?” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“It’s _not_ stupid,” she says. “But we don’t have to rush it.” 

Jughead flops back down on the pillow and sighs. “If I’m honest Betty, I have no clue what I’m doing, I’m just going with the flow.”

His words have an instant and sobering effect on Betty. Carefully, she clambers off him. For a few seconds she sits there, balancing on her toes and knees in the narrow space between the wall and Jughead. Then he holds his arm out and shuffles aside to make room for her, and she eases herself down until she’s lying flush against him, head on his shoulder.

“Going with the flow?” she asks after a while, tilting her head back to look at him.

He snorts softly, and glances away. “I mean, you’re the expert here so I’m just following your lead.”

“Expert on what?” says Betty, frowning.

Several seconds pass with no reply, and she’s starting to think he didn’t hear the question, but then he takes a determined breath.

“You know,” he says. “Physical interaction beyond second base.”

Betty can feel her mouth dropping open a little. “Oh,” she says. “I didn’t mean to-”

“And you might want to take into account what a _terrible_ baseball player I am in the first place,” he goes on. “So if you’re getting cold feet that’s an entirely reasonable reaction and-”

“Jughead,” she says firmly, sitting back up. “I’m not an expert either.”

It’s true - she’s not. She’d made the half-baked decision to spend approximately four slightly uncomfortable minutes in the backseat of Lucas O’Sullivan’s old Volvo after prom, something she doesn’t exactly regret but avoids thinking about at all costs. And then the following summer, when she’d fled the Cooper residence and her parents escalating rows for a month-long internship and sunsets on the beach in L.A., she’d met _another_ Lucas who had promised to teach her how to surf and then absolutely didn’t. Those weeks remain a hazy blur in her memory, but at least they aren’t actively cringe-inducing. 

So there had been Lucas and Lucas, and her experiences had ranged from bad to underwhelming. Not that she has any intention of mentioning this to Jughead, who’s lying right there, caressing her arm nervously.

“But,” he says, then swallows. “I’ve _never–_ ”

“We’ll figure it out together,” she says in what she hopes is a reassuring way. “No rush.”

And they kiss, and kiss again, but when the heat at her core starts building, she does her best to ignore it and gets him to turn on his side so she can cuddle him. 

It doesn’t take long for Jughead’s breathing to slow, for his arm to relax and dangle over the edge of the bed, but Betty lies wide awake, wishing the insistent, dull pounding between her legs away.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up, Jughead immediately realizes he’s made a mistake. 

Last night he had fallen asleep without really meaning to. Or at least without ever thinking he’d be able to. He’d probably been seconds away from sleeping with Betty, and naturally he had blown it all in the most idiotic way imaginable. He had been fully prepared to spend the whole night agonizing about it, but the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the dawn light through the window and the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of having slept the whole night in his jeans.

He had done what any reasonable person would do, namely sneak up to draw the curtains, strip to his boxers and slip back under the covers to enjoy an hour or two more of dozing before having to deal with the missed opportunities of yesterday.

What he hadn’t counted on was that the combination of a fitful (not to mention wishful) dream and the flimsy fabric of his boxers would equal waking up again to find his hardon firmly pressed against the softness of Betty’s backside, but here he is.

_Dear male reproductive system - what the actual fuck? Sincerely, Jughead Jones_.

As carefully as humanly possible, he starts inching away from Betty, hoping against hope that the bed will have somehow grown in size overnight, leaving him with ample space to–

“Good morning.”

Jughead goes cold all over at the sound of her voice. She doesn’t really sound sleepy, more...amused.

“Morning,” he says. And then, because he can’t stand the fact that she clearly knows and also knows that he knows that _she_ knows, he goes on. “I’m...sorry?”

“Why,” she says, but before he gets a chance to answer, she’s twisted her shoulders around to capture his mouth in a kiss.

Her movements have the added effect of her body closing the narrow gap he’d managed to create, and now her ass is resting on him in the most absurdly delicious way. Instinctively, he grinds against her a little, and she wiggles teasingly in response. 

“What are you doing,” he mumbles against her lips.

Betty snorts softly and counters, “What are _you_ doing?”

And it’s as if something finally clicks. He’s been so preoccupied with worrying about what’s happening between them, he’s somehow forgotten he’s actually one of the people making stuff happen. Only now does he seem to realize that what happens _next_ is as much in his hands as in hers.

_Hands_. He lets his left one wander, gently but decisively up under her top, to the dip of her bellybutton and beyond, not stopping until his fingers reach the edge of her breast. He pauses there, not because he hesitates, but because he savors the moment. Slowly, he draws a half circle across her ribs, following the soft curve of her flesh. Then he cups the breast reverently, and Betty lets out a soft sigh.

Her head has dropped back down on the pillow, leaving her neck irresistibly exposed. Jughead nuzzles it, inhaling the faint scent of the perfume she was wearing yesterday. Mostly, though, it smells of Betty.

“You smell so good,” he whispers, all while letting his fingertips dance over her nipple.

“Juggie…” she says, her eyes fluttering shut.

He can feel the nipple tightening into a hard bud, and he has to bite his tongue not to groan out loud. The way she’s pressing against him is close to unbearable and his hips half jerk forward of their own accord, some ridiculous neanderthal part of his brain almost managing to get its way. Clearly he needs to focus, and focus on her.

Moving his hand down again takes immense willpower. He’s spent more time thinking about touching Betty’s boobs than he cares to admit, and now that it’s finally happening, he’s reluctant to stop. Besides, he’s moving into uncharted territory - quite literally - but he steels himself and doesn’t stop until he reaches the elastic of her pyjama shorts. Carefully, he wriggles his fingers between the shorts and her underwear, then pauses as Betty makes an indistinct noise.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” she says. Her eyes are still closed, but her lips twitch in a slight smile.

Theoretically, Jughead knows how this works. He has done his homework, in more or less questionable ways, and he has some idea of what should feel good for her. Now that he’s here, though, it feels like he’s about to tread on sacred ground. Experimentally, he sweeps his fingers across the smooth fabric, heart beating hard as they trace a wave over that most intimate of places. Betty makes another encouraging sound, and he does it again, vowing to keep his touch feather light until she lets him know otherwise.

At first he tries to remember to keep kissing her, because the scenarios he’s played out in his head always seemed to feature plenty of simultaneous, passionate lipwork. Somehow he keeps forgetting, though, lost in searching her face for hints of what works and what doesn’t. He draws patterns, goes slow, then a little faster, and watches as she parts her lips and gasps softly.

There are other hints too. The way she furrows her brow just a little, the red spots on her cheeks that grow more intense, not to mention the small, involuntary movements that make her rock against him ever so gently, threatening to bring things to an all too abrupt end for Jughead.

Then she sucks a breath in and holds it, and in sheer panic Jughead freezes.

“No, no, no,” she says, her eyes snapping open. “Keep going, keep going like you did.”

His hand shaking, he resumes his gentle stroking. _Feather light_ , he tells himself. Betty closes her eyes again, and a minute passes in tense, heavy silence. She fumbles for him, grabbing hold of the leg of his boxer shorts, twisting the cloth around her fingers, her breath coming in short stutters. When she inhales sharply again he knows better than to stop, but he can’t help but touch her just a little more firmly, running his fingers decisively over what he’s identified as the sweet spot.

“ _Oh,_ ” Betty whimpers, her body suddenly trembling against his. “Oh my _god_ ,” she manages, panting hard, her chest heaving under Jughead’s arm as she comes apart.

Seeing her undone like this is intoxicating, and Jughead finds himself breathing just as heavily as she is. He presses closer, unable to stop himself, and for a couple of seconds he's sure he's going to ruin his boxers.

"God, I needed that," Betty groans then, shuffling away from him to curl up against his chest.

“Oh yeah?” Jughead says. 

He swallows hard, tasting adrenaline on his tongue. For some reason he can’t stop grinning. 

Betty is smiling too. “I mean, I didn’t want to pressure you into something you weren’t ready for last night, but physically I was kind of left hanging, you know,” she says, giving him a glance that’s both shy and cheeky.

“You should have said,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I would have been more than ready for this. At the very least,” he adds as he shifts a little to the side to mask the fact that he needs to adjust himself. Sadly it does little to ease his discomfort.

And then he feels it. Her hand, gently seeking him out, fingers dancing over his boxers until they find what they’re looking for. She gives him a searching look, and then slips her hand under the lining and pulls him loose and _god_. He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to feel self conscious; all he can think about is how good it feels.

“Jug,” she murmurs.

She gives him a couple of gentle strokes, then slides closer, close enough that she can nudge his cock against the front of her pyjama shorts. The layers of cloth separating them mock him, makes him want to go back to yesterday, when he could have…

That thought flies off somewhere in the distance as Betty reaches down between them to fidget with something. When she takes him in hand again, she drags him teasingly along the crease of her thigh where she's pulled her underwear aside. They're awfully close to taking this to a whole new level, he realizes as she guides him towards her clit, pressing down on it with a quiet moan. Jughead bites the inside of his cheek briefly, trying to round up his last few functioning brain cells, because if they’re going down this road, there’s an awkward question he needs to get out of the way.

"Betty," he says. "Do you still have that…thing in your arm."

"Yeah, it's right here," she says, nodding towards her upper arm, and looking at it he can make out a faint scar. He remembers her complaining about the implant, how the local anaesthetic hadn't worked properly when she put it in.

"Just checking," he says through gritted teeth as she shuffles closer still.

She lets go of his cock and gently hooks her leg over his, then pulls his hand down between them, giving him an encouraging look.

So now it’s up to him. He does what she did, pulling at her underwear until there’s enough room to run two fingers over the soft curls there, until they slide suddenly and easy partway into her wetness. _Christ_ , he thinks, his hardon pounding against her thigh. Betty draws a breath, as if she wants to say something, so he stops for a moment and meets her eyes.

“Jughead, you can…” Betty hesitates, the red spots on her cheeks making a brief comeback. “If you want to be inside me, that’s… I mean, I want that.”

He does. Of course he does, and he kisses her for courage, long and deep, while he guides himself right. Briefly he thinks maybe they should have dealt with the underwear situation, but then her hands are there, accommodating him, and he slowly pushes inside her. The sensation is incredible; hot, slick and unbelievably close, and he can feel his balls tightening in anticipation.

“God damn it,” he groans, screwing his eyes shut briefly. He's not even fully inside her and he's already about to lose it.

“What’s wrong?” says Betty. She’s holding onto his shoulder, and now she starts squeezing it, as if he might need comforting.

“You feel so good,” he says. “Either we have to stop or… You know.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “Whatever happens, it’s okay.” Then she gives him a sly smile. “Besides, I already got mine, so.”

As absurd as it is, he can’t help but snort a laugh. “Okay, yes, but I was hoping this would last longer than, uh, negative seconds.”

She turns her face up to kiss him. Then she looks him in the eyes, her face earnest, almost grave.

“You set the pace,” she says.

He kisses her back, as a thank you, but also because it’s a distraction that seems to help. For a while they stay like that, trading lazy kisses, until he feels confident enough to move again. The first seconds are the worst – by which he actually means they’re the absolute fucking best, _ever_ – and he holds his breath, grabbing her thigh to pull her closer rather than having to push. She follows his every nudge, and then he's finally seated deep inside her. He breathes out as slowly as he dares, and finds that he's still keeping it together.

"Damn," he manages.

Betty grins smugly at him, then plants a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. Extremely okay."

Experimentally, Jughead pulls back a little, and for a fraction of a second everything seems to be going just fine. That is, until he feels the gentle scraping of Betty's underwear over his cock, and he can't help but let out a groan. Then Betty gasps, and freaking _clenches_ briefly around him and-

"Oh shit," he says, pushing back inside her in pure panic.

That doesn't help. At all.

"Oh _shit_ ," he says again, searching Betty's face for guidance.

"It's okay," she says, cupping his chin.

"I need to… I'm going to…" he says, and he can’t stop himself from moving again because it feels incredible.

"I know," Betty says, and then shifts her weight until she's straddling him.

She takes hold of his hands and places them on her hips. “Set the pace,” she says, and when he pulls her towards him, she grinds down.

He lasts longer than he thought he would, but not nearly as long as he would have wanted, but long enough to lose himself in the feeling of her, enveloping him in heavenly heat until he suddenly reaches the point of no return.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pressing his fingers into her soft skin as he pushes up into her one last time, heels digging into the mattress. He squeezes his eyes shut when he comes, the sensation overwhelming enough to make him see stars.

Some time later, when the world has stopped spinning, he notices that Bettys has slipped off him to nestle in the crook of his arm. She still has that smug smile on her face, and Jughead can’t help but give a short laugh.

“What?” she says, poking his side teasingly.

“That was–” he starts, and fumbles around for a quip, but for once, he’s got nothing, “ _–amazing_ ,” he finishes.

Betty’s smile grows wider, and she slings her arms across his chest, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s Saturday,” she says after a while.

“It is,” he agrees. “Got any plans?”

“Oh, yes. My whole weekend schedule is practically _packed_.”

Jughead feels his heart sink with disappointment, but he’s not surprised. It’s Betty, after all.

“Gotta have a shower, first of all,” Betty says, drumming her fingers thoughtfully on his chest. “And then pre-breakfast cuddling, maybe even more pre-breakfast sex if you’re up for it?”

Jughead's eyebrows fly up. “Uhh.”

“And then breakfast, and then post-breakfast sex, and more cuddles, then lunch et cetera et cetera.”

As she talks, Jughead feels himself breaking into a sheepish grin.

“That sound alright to you?” she asks, glancing up at him.

“I’ve certainly had worse weekends.”

Then Betty sighs. "I actually need to go shopping though, unless we want to live on rice and tomato paste."

"We could just order takeout," Jughead suggests. "Leaving more time for all that sex you were planning on having."

Betty laughs, a clear, honest laugh that makes Jughead's insides go warm.

"That sounds phenomenal," she sighs. "Not to mention expensive."

Jughead pulls her closer and tilts his head down to kiss her hair before wedging his arm under the pillow, making himself comfortable.

" _Well_ ,” he says, “as it happens I've recently come into some unexpected cash..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This work has not been betaed, so feel free to nitpick in the comments ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I asked the wonderful [satelliteinasupernova](http://satelliteinasupernova.tumblr.com) to make art to go along with this fic, and [boy did she deliver!](https://satelliteinasupernova.tumblr.com/post/614652951276011520/the-lovely-yavannie-commissioned-a-scene-from-the) And do check out her Bughead art and writing, she is supremely talented as well as an all around awesome person <3


End file.
